


Hardly Serious

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Dinner, Christmas Eve, Christmas Party, Christmas Presents, Competition, Cultural Differences, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Dinners, Family Drama, Family Fluff, French-Speaking Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), German Eren Yeager, M/M, Multilingual, Slapping, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-01-26 05:33:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21368968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Eren and Levi decide to compete against one another. Who can organize the best traditional Christmas? Family fluff & drama! [Multilingual]
Relationships: Carla Yeager/Grisha Yeager, Furlan Church/Isabel Magnolia, Levi/Eren Yeager, Moblit Berner/Hange Zoë
Kudos: 16





	1. What's Best for Miki

“It’s not that it bothers me. I just thought we should do something a bit more… interesting.”

Eren looks at his husband with a quizzical look on his face. He toys with Mikasa’s hair a bit, the little girl pushes his hands away, though she remains sat on his lap, fidgeting with one of her playthings.

“What do you mean? It’s what we’ve always done. Your mom, my parents, and that’s it. We can get Farlan and Isabelle too if you want.”

“I’m not talking about the people we invite. I’m talking… in general.”

Eren asks for clarification with a humming sound.

“Christmas in Germany, Eren. It’s… tiring.”

“Why, is it too much?”

“No, it’s just shit.”

Eren shifts awkwardly and asks for their daughter to run off to play someplace else. She gets the cue instantly and hops to her room while singing softly to herself.

“It’s not anything she can’t hear, you know. It’s not like we’re going to go at each other’s throats.”

Levi looks up from his phone and catches Eren’s teary gaze and drops his phone instantly.

“What, now? Don’t get whiny on me, please.”

“You mean you don’t like celebrating Christmas with… with us all?”

“That’s not it. I simply feel like it should be important… for once, for Mikasa, to experience what a more French Christmas is like.”

Eren straightens against the couch and dries the ghosts of his tears away. He sighs with relief.

“Phew. You got me scared. I thought you didn’t like _our_ Christmases!”

“Not to be rude, Eren, but I kind of do. Potato salads get boring quickly.”

“We’ve done more than that...”

Levi shrugs with a subtle look of sorry on his face. He continues to scroll on his phone, and occasionally shows Eren something he thought would make him laugh. It doesn’t work, but he tries; that’s what he tells himself.

Eren listens attentively to the show running on TV.. Levi leaves him alone, and gets back to scrolling mindlessly. It’s a stupid show, but that’s how Eren busies himself. He understands it approximately, the comedians speak too fast for him, but he insists on watching French TV all the time.  _“It’s the only way Mik_ _i_ _ has to learn it apart from you!”_

In truth, Mikasa knew more French than she did German. Levi hardly spoke German, and whenever he and Eren had a conversation, it would be a constant back-and-forth between the two languages. Eren couldn’t speak French well enough to converse in it and Levi didn’t want to bother with his lover’s language. Mikasa had picked up on that quickly, and always addressed her  _Vati_ in German and her  _Papa_ in French.

“So?” Eren tears his gaze from the screen as the outro plays its calm tune. “A French Christmas, huh? What does it entail?”

“Dessert. Other than that, we can mix things up. I know the Advent and _Nikolaus_ are important to you, and it’s not like the kid will accept to not eat _Plätzchen_…”

“You don’t have those?!”

“Nah. We don’t do anything for the, uhh, the _Adventzeit_. Advent calendars at best. That, or nothing.”

“And what happens on the D-Day?”

“Well, I’m sorry, but we’re not going to bed at ten.”

“We’ve literally never done that.”

“Oh yes we have. It’s exactly like going to your parents’. You guys have no idea what family dinners are supposed to be like. You used to get mad at for me wasting time, huh.”

“I got used to it!”

He beams awkwardly. This has been a difficult part of their relationship at first. The cultural shock was negligible, until Levi enforced his own ways instead of adapting to his husband’s all the time.  _Why are you leaving the table so fast? Dinner is at 8, not at 6. We don’t eat salty stuff for breakfast. _ Yeah. Dinner is supposed to be savored until late. Whether it is good or not, whether you like the people sitting at the table with you or not.

“You did.”

They settle in an uncomfortable silence. Eren hesitates to speak, his mouth twitches desperately. He stays gawking for a while, then says in a small voice, barely above a whisper:

“I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to live here.”

“Save it. As long as you’re both with me, I can live anywhere.”

Another hint at one of Levi’s snaps. The memory has left a sour taste in their mouths. Back when they met, Eren’s plan had been simple. He wanted to settle with this man close to where his parents lived. His mother was in a terrible state, her health had degraded quickly. This pushed them both to choose an apartment in the same city Eren grew up in. Levi understood. Would he have done the same? No. But it wasn’t about him, now, was it?

Though, after Carla’s recovery, he has had times where he had confronted Eren about living somewhere else, somewhere  _French_ .

And that was when Mikasa first cried about her parents arguing.

Eren had been adamant on not moving out. He didn’t know French, and Levi could speak German. Moving out meant they had to leave everything they knew, and Eren would have had to work his ass off to speak simple sentences. And his job would never allow him time to adapt. And Mikasa would have to leave her friends and her school, and if he had been honest, Eren would have admitted that he didn’t want Mikasa forgetting her homeland.

So they hadn’t. Levi decided against it “for Mikasa”.

The little girl had been torn in two. Eren had asked her whether she would rather live in Germany or in France, and she had told him she wanted to stay with Vati and Papa. She deemed the answer satisfying and Eren never tried to coax more out of her. This had been a bit cruel, he realized.

The topic was never discussed again, until today.

“So, you want to do it at your mother’s?”

“She volunteered. She absolutely wants your parents to come. Says she has something to show to your dad.”

“Why does that sound more terrifying than it’s supposed to be?”

“Because she’s an Ackerman.”

Eren laughs softly but can’t help but agree. “Gotta play translators for them again. How fun.”

“If that’s any consolation, Kuchel finds it cute that you can’t say her name right.”

“Hey, she proposed _Olympie_ herself. At least that I can say. Somewhat.”

Levi makes a fifty-fifty movement with his hand.

Eren laughs it off and tells him he’s going to make dinner. He goes to Mikasa’s room first, asks her for what she would want, then proceeds to heat up some  _Brötchen_ in the oven. He also prepares some veggies and a salad for Levi, who likes to have his meals structured with  _entrées_ , main course,  side dish, cheese and desserts. As far as Eren is concerned, that’s called a banquet.

“I’m glad you were taught how to cook.”

“Lazy ass”, Eren counters and pushes Levi’s hands away. “Help me with this.”

Levi listens to his few commands and sets the table. They do it all in silence, they’ve learned, with time, how comfortable silence could be. Sometimes, random radio shows play their soft tunes in the background.

“What if we compromise?”

Levi is torn away from the plate in his hand; he was trying to scrub one of them clean after noticing a greasy spot.

He continues to scrub absentmindedly, but looks up to Eren, who holds the ingredients for the vinaigrette Levi is usually tasked to  whip up. The plate is soon forgotten,  as he busies his hands with the concoction.

“Compromise? I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Spoilsport. What if we spend one day with your family and another day with my parents, but not together.”

“You’re taking that like a competition?”

“Of course! You told me my family’s Christmas was shit! I have to own up and prove you we’re a lot of fun.”

“And I have to do the same for you?”

“You know I’m eager to learn more about how you used to live without me. And having my parents over would jeopardize your perfect idea of your family’s Christmas.”

“I guess...”

“You’re not feeling up to it? You were the one who wanted to make things more _interesting_.”

Arms worm their way around Levi’s waist, chin on shoulder, words next to the ear.

“Mikasa will get to see both _Opa_ and _Oma_, and _Mamie_. Farlan and Isabelle won’t be stuck with awkward in-laws who can’t understand them… and my mom’s health isn’t the best, you know. I’m afraid she can get sick if we bring them to Kuchel’s…”

“That’s a lot of excuses for someone who purely wants to one me up. Let’s do as you say. Whoever has the most fun, genuinely, wins.”

Eren’s eyes have this short-lived glimmer burning in them, and he tries to tickle Levi, before he’s pushed back gently by an unsurprised husband.

“_Sale gosse_. I’m gonna get _Miki_.”

And as he exits the room, Eren unsheathes  his phone and dials the first number that comes to mind.

  
  


“Hanji, I’ll need your help.”


	2. Chez Kuchel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of the chapter means "At Kuchel's" ("bei Kuchel" in German).  
Some of the dialogue is written in French or in German (I know both languages and I won't hesitate to use them more). You can find the English translations in the end notes (if this were a book, you'd find them in the footnotes...)
> 
> Have fun reading it!

“Olympie! _Je suis content de vous revoir_!”

“_Tutoie-moi, allons_.”

Eren grins sheepishly. He does it on purpose, Levi knows it, because he likes being pampered on by Kuchel. She really likes him, and really likes hearing him speak French. She kisses his cheeks and ushers him inside, making him remove his shoes first, then turns to her only son. He looks at her with the smallest amount of warmth he can muster. She eyes him from head to toes, and accepts the flowers he was offering her.

“_Livaï… pas besoin de faire cette tête, tu sais. Je suis contente de te voir, mon chéri._”

She takes him in her arms and forces his head on her shoulder. Amiably, but forcefully.

He doesn’t find the courage in him to push her away, and neither does he sigh when Mikasa notices them stuck like this and joins from behind to hug her grandmother’s legs. Kuchel lets go of her son and coos at Mikasa, taking her up in her tender and firm embrace, and rambles to her about today’s festivities. Before she enters the house, she gives Levi his two kisses, but then, he’s forgotten.

Levi follows them inside, leaving his own shoes next to Eren’s. He pays no attention to the potted flowers everywhere, nor does he react to the poor state they’re in. He isn’t here to clean.

The main entrance leads to the kitchen, untidy, dirty in some places. He bats an eyelid.

She’ll never change.

Eren waits for them all in the great living room. A long table, for eight people at least, sits in the middle of the room. Rustic, antiquated furniture surrounds them. The house smells of  _old_ . Levi couldn’t stand it then, and still can’t now.

“_Hier bist du aufgewachsen, äh_...”

He sends Eren a small nod. Yeah. Growing up in here. It had been something…

Mikasa runs to the Christmas tree immediately. It’s been decorated already, and she looks disappointed for a minute, which Eren points out to Levi.

“Traditions here mean we put that thing up way earlier than you do.”

Eren winces a bit at the tone, but nods with understanding nonetheless.

The little girl soon forgets about the tree and asks for  _Mamie_ if she can go upstairs to go in Levi’s old room. Of course, she complies, and Mikasa climbs up the stairs quickly, though she comes back as fast, claiming she didn’t want to stay alone.

“_Ça fait peur_”, she told them.

The three adults remain in an awkward silence for a while after the short welcome. Kuchel has fetched some tea for them. Eren drinks it reluctantly, he hates the stuff, but because of a misunderstanding when Kuchel and him first met, she’s now convinced he’s as big a fan as she and her son are.

“_Eren, j’ai appris que Carla n’était pas au meilleur de sa forme… Je suis désolée de l’entendre, vraiment. Tu lui donneras mes meilleurs vœux de rétablissement, d’accord _?”

Eren nods and smiles brightly. 70% chance he hasn’t understood most of what she said, but he fakes assurance. That calms Kuchel down. Yet, she stands up suddenly, and rushes to the kitchen to fetch napkins. There is no point in asking her why she left so abruptly, as if driven by fear. They both know she’s weird like that.

“_Gute Besserung für Carla_” Levi translates for him with a knowing smile. He continues in German: “Isabelle and Farlan have to fucking hurry. I don’t know how much time I can spend here all alone with her. I hope they get off work early...”

“Hey, Miki and I are here. And she’s not that baaad. You always complain about her, it’s not like she’s evil or something. She doesn’t have… much to say. That’s it.”

“Yeah, sure. How’s your tea?”

“_Igitt_...”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Besides, I think you’re overthinking all of this. I’ve seen you glaring at her kitchen like she’s left it to rot away. It’s considered clean for us, mere mortals. Please, don’t spend the day cleaning everything. You know I’m going to like this evening no matter what we do.”

“I know, it’s… alright.”

“You relax, I’m gonna go see what she’s up to.”

Eren makes Levi’s job way too easy. Of course he’d forget all about his own competitive spirit just to bond with his family.

_Sale gosse_ .

Mikasa asks for him to play with her, and he agrees wholeheartedly. That’s an activity he can enjoy. He has to explain to her how these board games work; he notes to himself that they don’t have much of those at home, and makes another note to buy more; she listens greedily, she loves learning more about  _Papa_ ’s life from when he was little. He told her he used to play this game a lot, with  _Tata Zabelle_ and  _Tonton Farlan_ .

Mikasa likes it. They spend their sweet time playing  _le Nain Jaune_ , and although she’s not great at it, she enjoys the time with  _Papa_ . Levi likes her determination and can’t help the juvenile pride when she corrects him mid-game.

“Where is _Vati_?” she asks out of the blue, uncovering one of her cards for Levi to accept her pick or not.

“In the kitchen, I’d say. You want to look for him?”

He confirms that her card is the right one.

“… I want to finish the game.”

“I agree. Let’s finish up.”

“Alright!” Her little bubbly voice is enough to overwhelm him.

There used to be times where he’d feel bad for these moments of weakness. It had been hard on him. He was a man who had been driven into a somber corner, where all he had to survive were his guts. It never left much place for family, for settling down, for feelings altogether. Meeting Eren has changed that. He is allowed moments of weakness. He is allowed calmness and serenity.

He looks around the house, which, in truth, hasn’t changed much. Same old wallpaper. Same old chairs and table. The TV is a lot more modern, she bought it some years ago, he knows, he’s had to help her carry it inside the house, but the piece of furniture it lays upon can be traced back to the 18 th century. At least.

He hazards a glance in Mikasa’s direction. She can’t hold all her cards together in her round hands, so she lays them face down right in front of her, and goes through each individually until she’s satisfied with her pick. She shows it to him, and he nods with contentment. She got the hang of it quickly.

Now, both she and Eren bring the best out of him. They pierce through the hard shell, they dig the smiles out of him, and they relish in his presence.

He gives his daughter a soft smile as she lays her last card.

The game is over. He has won, of course he has, but he doesn’t put much emphasis on it. Mikasa puts the game away neatly, under her father’s watchful eyes and once Levi nods to her, she runs to the kitchen happily. He follows suit and ignores the ache in his stomach. He couldn’t stand to be alone in one of these rooms.

They bring back memories.

* * *

“_Maman_, _tu as besoin d’aide?”_

“Not really_, mon cœur, _but I’m surprised! You’ve never shown Eren how to make_ croquemonsieurs?”_

“That’s what we’re having for Christmas?”

“Not for dinner, silly, but I figured Mikasa would get hungry. And Eren is a sweetheart! Look at his first ones!”

“It’s… a ham and cheese sandwich. How could he fuck up a sandwich?”

“Spoilsport.”

“I’ve been told as much.”

She nudges him gently. “Come on,  _chéridoux_ , don’t be a sourpuss. It’s for lunch. There’s no tradition for lunch, now, is there?”

“I guess not.”

“Besides, we can’t possibly cook everything on our own. Isabelle and Farlan will gladly help. Isabelle has her _buche_ ready.”

“_J’ai hâte_!” Eren pipes in, in French. Kuchel lights up like a candle. She squeals, as much as an old lady can, and cups his head in her hands, telling him how much of a good boy he is.

This has his husband grinning with a dopey smile. Eren simply likes being at the center of the attention. Especially Kuchel’s.

Mikasa does intervene at some point and demands to partake in their cooking activity. Kuchel squeals again, then carries her over to the counter, at which the girl sits, atop one of the high stools. Her grandmother tells her about the menu she’s prepared and asks her about what she should change about it. Levi doubts she’ll take into account whatever Mikasa will tell her next, it’s too late to go shopping now, and Kuchel takes each day as it comes and has led her whole life without thinking about tomorrow. She wouldn’t have the necessary additional ingredients to prepare something that’s not on her thoroughly thought out menu.

Levi feels arms wrapping themselves around his waist. Eren rests his head on his shoulder and nuzzles against his cheek like a self-satisfied cat.

“I got a text. My parents wish you all a merry Christmas. Tell your mom, please.”

Mikasa jumps on her seat silently and raises her hand like she’s at school.

Eren cocks an eyebrow and eyes her defiantly. The girl is happy to translate to her grandmother, and Kuchel accepts the warm wishes and answers with her own, which Eren is prompt to transfer.

“_Tu devrais prendre le temps de les appeler, mon garçon. Livaï va m’aider à cuisiner, d’accord?_”

Levi briefly translates to Eren, who nods hesitantly. Levi does push him a bit, it’s true Carla and Grisha would never last without a call from one of their sons.

So Eren flees in one of the room upstairs.

His absence is deafening.

Mikasa glares at the neatly curved letters on the menu which lays on the counter. She finds it difficult to decipher her  _Mamie_ ’s handwriting. It  _is_ excellent penmanship, though perhaps a bit old, now.

Mikasa busies herself, and that’s enough distraction for Kuchel to send Levi her most intense glare. She always stares at him wide-eyed, as if he’s some kind of monster, some kind of anomaly. Levi hardly gets to be alone with his mom, he does try to avoid these situations when they offer themselves to him, as he knows her “ _comme s’il l’avait faite_ ”.

Unspoken questions linger in her eyes, there are thousands of silent worries burning at the tip of her tongue,  they all die before she speaks them . Sometimes she dares to  speak them out loud . Some other times, she remains frozen, her mouth on fire, and communicates with him through her eyes: “What happened?”; “How was it?”; “Tell me you’re alright”.

She can’t help it, Levi used to reason. She’s a mom. Moms worry, right? Moms make sure you’re safe and happy.

But she’s a single mom, and there are things she hasn’t done by the rules. Moms don’t give up their child, do they? Moms don’t come back into their life after disappearing, do they? Moms don’t silence the truth for their own benefit, do they?

Do they?

When he was little, Levi thought he had lost his mom. Levi thought he would never have someone to call  _Maman_ again. Levi thought, that’s it. Life’s over.  She’s gone.

When this thought crossed his mind, years later after she  had magically reappeared, he realized.

Mikasa doesn’t have anyone she can call  _Maman_ .

And yet, she leads a worry-free life.

So why couldn’t he?

* * *

When Eren joins them, he is immediately greeted by Levi’s cold attitude, quickly challenged by Isabelle, who goes for the neck like a starving beast. She kisses both his cheeks, and he reciprocates, as normally as he can. He always feels so childish when he kisses these French people. It reminds him of his mother, who may have been the only person he’s ever kissed on the cheeks apart from Levi.

Though Isabelle’s behavior isn’t always that of an adult, so it soothes his puerile worry a bit. Farlan’s a lot easier to welcome, they share a hug and that’s that.

Eren can’t say he has a lot of conversation with either of them. He has a hard time communicating, though after enough alcohol, his understanding of the language becomes clearer, he feels, and he laughs at everything they say with a heartwarming enthusiasm.

When sober, he listens to them, almost captivated, if not for the fact he could only decipher only a quarter of their sentences. It does make him feel out of place, sometimes. When not gossiping, they talk about politics and they make sure he can pipe in sometimes with his own experience from Germany, yet he remains with the tugging sensation of being smaller than all of them.

When there’s something he truly wants to know about, he asks Levi, who translates to him in a slurred, tired voice. Nobody really cares about whether he’s interested or not, whether he’s getting the point or not.

So he nods, and they go on their merry way.

However…

They  _are_ Levi’s friends. Levi’s best friends. Levi’s childhood friends… Levi’s only friends. There aren’t many people Levi likes to be around, so he bears for a while, for Levi. His husband does suffer his share of awkward moments when good-natured but painfully shy Krista comes over, or when Sasha randomly decides to have  _Kaffee und Kuchen_ , not bothering to check whether Eren is even at home.

Eren hadn’t thought his married life would look like he was sacrificing something as a compensation for Levi, but there is no way around it. He keeps his smile and starts nodding mechanically to Isabelle’s soliloquy.

The night will be long.

* * *

“As if he isn’t used to ending his night in some obscure police station.”

“Each time, it’s been on a misunderstanding. Don’t go lying to Kuchel now.”

“You… went to prison?”

Eren is surprised he hasn’t stuttered. But really, Farlan went to prison? Respectful, man of law Farlan? The same man who tenses up whenever he sees a policeman?

Well. That explains it.

“I did”, Farlan confirms. “But don’t listen to her. I went for two months. She’s exaggerating all the facts.”

Isabelle doesn’t even look sorry and continues to laugh: “Big strong man needed to be told off a bit. Sweet, little Farlan in prison!”

“Sure gets you going”, Levi says without a smile. Kuchel must have upset him earlier.

“Ah! Don’t pretend to be indifferent to it! You thought it helped his reputation as some sort of a gangbang leader!”

Eren cracks up at Isabelle’s word, choking on his food. Levi, sighing, refills his glass generously, and Eren coughs loudly, hitting his chest, then drinks the water up in three long gulps.

He has to dry his laughing tears away, while Farlan hides his smile with one hand. Kuchel has gone into hysterical laughter, while Mikasa giggles along, for reasons she doesn’t understand. She doesn’t want to feel left out.

“Isa-, Isa-, Isabelle, that’s not, oh my god, that’s not ‘gangbang’, fuck.” Farlan struggling to speak doesn’t help Eren’s case, his breath isn’t stabilizing, and Levi gets to stroke his back lovingly.

Alcohol does wonders to soothe his worries. Eren has drunk most of the champagne, it comes directly from the source. Farlan has boasted about the bottles he brought with him, “they’re from Champagne, I bought them there because a friend of a friend...” Eren doesn’t care much about champagne. They can talk all they want about it, he’d perhaps reuse what they say with an arrogant voice to have fun with  Marco some day. In the end, he simply likes getting drunk.

“You just say ‘gang’. Not ‘gangbang’” Farlan manages to enunciate. “Gangbang is, it’s, uh-”

“Don’t say it!” Eren cries out after tossing his glass negligently, and although it oscillates dangerously, he grabs it before its content could spill on the table. “We have kids with us!”

“It’s only Mika. She won’t get it.” Levi adds.

“Hey there, you’re here too, Eren’s right.”

Eren giggles some more. Has Hanji talked to Farlan recently? What’s got him in such a good mood?

Farlan adds “I’ll tell you later”, which satisfies Isabelle’s curiosity for the night. 

Dinner goes by  relatively  smoothly. Isabelle happily talks about her workday, which left Eren confused for a bit. He couldn’t imagine working on the 24 th , but Isabelle doesn’t have it easy, so he doesn’t dare to ask about it.

Working as a doctor, it does allow him to fix his own holiday schedule, and he’s well off, no shame in admitting it. This lift enough responsibility from Levi’s shoulders and gives him enough time to work a part time job and take care of Mikasa when Eren can’t. Levi had been unyielding on not getting a nanny, some conviction he had that they could raise their daughter on their own. Eren didn’t disagree.

He munches on hot chestnuts. He shells them carefully and disregards the inedible parts, throwing them in a bowl next to his glass. Had he drunk a bit more, he’d definitely have mistaken his glass for the bowl more than once.  His head started to spin half an hour ago…

Isabelle comments that she feels like a tourist in a Christmas market and,  in return, Eren feels compelled to ask why.

“I don’t know! I think I like reconnecting with the most cliché things ever. It’s these myths every foreigner believes. It’s like, do you eat potatoes all the time?”

“He forces me to,” Levi interrupts with a grave tone. “Four times a week.”

“Ouch. I take it back. It’s not all myths, I guess. Is he being rough on you, Liv?”

“Not in the sense you want to hear about.”

This time, Isabelle chokes on her food and laughs painfully after a drink.

Levi does get friendlier when tipsy. Accompanied by Farlan’s easygoing attitude, it amplifies tenfold. Farlan raises an eyebrow  at Levi’s joke, as if daring him to say more and the latter might have done it if not for Mikasa claiming she wants potatoes now.

“_Heute nicht. Kannst du dich an das Menü erinnern?_” Eren asks her.

Mikasa nods slowly, and lists the things she remembers with her fingers:

“_Escargots… saumon… foie gras… dinde… de la buche ! Vati, ich will buche essen _!”

“_Als Nachtisch, ja. Iss mal dein Fleisch zu Ende, Schatz_.”

The discussion kind of dies with their interaction. Eren helps Mikasa cut her turkey, and he realizes only after a moment that everyone was gawking at him.

“_Ääh_… quoi? ”

“You’re so sweet,” Isabelle tells him with a smile. “So, Eren. Can you tell us about what you have planned for your family’s Christmas?”

In French: “Oh, well. Not much. I want it to be good, but I don’t know if it will be better than today.”

Isabelle sighs looking upwards, raising her arms to the ceiling, mumbling something about Eren being “too sweet”. He doesn’t mind.

“Lili here must be excited, huh?” She continues.

“Don’t call me that.”

“You know, when we were younger, Levi used to hate Christmas, but he loved his birthday.”

“What?” Levi asks, surprised. “What are you getting at?”

“You aren’t one for parties, we all know that. But you always made sure to have your friends over for your birthday.”

“Is it true, sweetie?” Kuchel asks.

Eren’s brows furrow at once. Kuchel doesn’t know about Levi’s birthdays?

He glares at Levi with a questioning look on his face. His husband makes sure to avoid his emerald eyes, focused on Kuchel with death behind his pupils. Looks can’t kill, but Levi can, and Eren felt cold sweat running down his spine.

The tension around the table increases tenfold.

“Yes. It’s true.” He confirms

“Then I’m relieved to have Farlan and Isabelle over. We can celebrate a bit before you leave tomorrow, right?”

“We have to leave early. Carla and Grisha want us over at four.”

“Four? What… what can you possibly do at four?”

“That’s a question for our national Jäger here.”

“We always meet up early in my family.”

Eren has nothing else to say. There is an uncomfortable silence until Farlan decides to switch topic to something Eren doesn’t understand, and doesn’t even want to understand.

Dinner with the in-laws shouldn’t be this awkward.

* * *

They eat dessert in front of TV. The news play as a background noise, Eren finds it odd, and tries to listen with half an ear, but doing this, he realizes he can’t hear the actual discussion between his in-laws anymore.

Mikasa is struggling to stay awake. She fights against her own eyelids, “ _Papa, ils se ferment tous seuls _ !”, though she bolts to the window at each noise she hears outside, as if daring Santa to come out and present himself.

Levi seems out of it. He stands up suddenly and tells Mikasa it’s time for bed.

The little girl doesn’t climb down from the windowsill and actively ignores her father’s voice. Levi walks to her and takes her arm softly, telling her to go to bed once more.

She looks at him and shakes her head.

“_C’était pas une question. Tu vas au lit, un point c’est tout._”

Eren raises one eyebrow and kneels down on the sofa, disregarding his half-eaten plate. He eyes Mikasa, who meets his gaze, but doesn’t back down.

“_Je veux pas._”

Her tone is final. Eren is about to sigh. He feels it building up inside him, he feels his shoulders lifting themselves, he feels himself ignoring the situation. It’s Christmas. She can do whatever. He doesn’t care much. He doesn’t usually care much, but especially on Christmas.

He is about to feel all that, and he knows it before it comes to be true.

But something else plays out.

He hears the slap before he sees it. His eyes widen and he cries out. He isn’t fully aware of what he’s witnessing. Mikasa  bawls instantly , Levi is fulminating, towering over her. Her father has hurt her. His husband has hurt her.

He throws one glance at Kuchel, who observes the scene like a witch, a cruel queen atop her throne. She doesn’t care much that her granddaughter got slapped.  Farlan and Isabelle are out of the picture. His anger  has blinded him entirely.

Fucking  _slapped_ .

Mikasa runs from Levi before he’s done angering himself with more useless words. Eren sees him trying to rush to her, and he may have caught up with her if he hadn’t punched him right in the face.  Levi’s head jerks to the side. Eren doesn’t care anymore. Mikasa’s hiding under the large table and  cries her  heart out. Levi remains frozen,  his cheek bruising already. He  lets Eren walk to her.

The slap sobered him right up.

Looks can’t kill, but Levi can, though Eren  _will_ retaliate.

  
  


  
  


  
  


The night will be long for a girl awaiting Santa, and although she is hesitant to admit it, she is terrified of sleeping on her own in Levi’s old bedroom.

Eren can see why. Even  for the call  to  his parents, he had been put off by the gloomy atmosphere of the room he had found shelter in. He wants to ask about it, now more than ever, but he has to wait for Mikasa to fall asleep first.

Teeth brushed, in her pajamas and hair untied and well-combed, she got under the thick blankets, tucked and squished between her fathers. Eren holds in his hands the only storybook he found in the house and lulls Mikasa to sleep with his inadequate pronunciation.

Levi is sitting on the edge of the bed and listens absentmindedly. They made up surprisingly easily after the… slap.

Eren has the book at the perfect height so Mikasa can still see the text and correct him on some of the words she recognizes.

The girl dozes off soon. Eren closes the book dramatically and tries to open one of the cupboards to store the book inside. The cabinet’s locked. He hazards a glance in Levi’s direction, who has risen up the bed and walked to his side.

“_Was ist hier drin?_”

“… _je sais pas_.”

“_Ist das nicht _dein_ Zimmer_?”

“_C’était. Il y a des années. Des décennies_.”

“_Was war mit deiner Mutter los? Sie wusste nicht, dass dir deinen Geburtstag gefiel… wie kann das sein_?”

Levi sighs.

“_Il y a des choses qu’il vaut mieux ne pas savoir sur cette maison et celle qui l’habite._”

“_Was soll das bedeuten?_”

“… _on doit retourner en bas. Viens, __gamin_.”

On any other day, Eren would have talked back. He  would have snapped, perhaps, because Levi was showing distrust towards him. Because he hadn’t properly apologized for hitting Mikasa. Because their marriage felt like a joke to him right now.

But the look in Levi’s eyes reminds him of the day they first met. Sadness lurking behind pupils, a hard exterior with a not so golden heart.

_People aren’t born with hearts of gold. They grow it as they grow up._

So he stays put. Levi caresses the back of his hand and squeezes it.

Eren kisses his forehead, and then his lips, chaste and soft. He frames Levi’s face with his thumbs and brushes them over the skin reddened by emotion.

No tears yet. This was a good sign. Eren embraces him wholly, puts all his weight around Levi’s chest and pushes him onto the bed.

It’s far from comfortable. Mikasa’s legs shift awkwardly, sensing Levi’s weight next to her shinbone. Eren tries to kiss his mouth, Levi turns his head. Levi attempts to push his body away, Eren relents.

“_Hab dich lieb_.”

“_Je sais. Moi aussi_.”

They join the others in the living room, where they finish their plate of  _buche_ . Discussion has become scarce. They all prefer to watch TV in silence.  The homey atmosphere  was ruined anyway.

Now that there’s no need to keep an eye on Mikasa and that his anger has died down,  Eren feels tired, the kind of tired which becomes indiscernible from drunk. Isabelle’s head rests on Farlan’s chest, his arm draped over her shoulders affectionately. They  are struggling to remain awake .

“I should go to bed”, Isabelle announces. “I’m sorry. Work was harder than usual.”

Farlan helps her up. She wobbles for a moment, then goes to each of them to kiss them both goodnight and merry Christmas.

“Wake me up tomorrow for presents day, alright?”

They promise to alert her, and that Mikasa would probably wake them all up for presents day anyway.

Once she’s left, Farlan yawns, and doesn’t hesitate much to join his fiancée.

Soon, only Kuchel and the Jäger couple remains.

Jäger, yes.

Levi had been adamant on taking after Eren’s name.

“_Elle dit quoi ?_” Eren wonders in French, pointing at one of the characters on TV.

Levi can’t answer. He hasn’t listened much, he’s lost in thoughts. Lost in guilt, perhaps.

The lights flicker, or perhaps his eyelids close and open too fast for him to realize. He really is tired. The voices coming from the TV become confused, the faces blurry, though they have been for some time now.

“_Livaï, mon cœur tu devrais l’emmener au lit._”

Levi agrees to what Kuchel said. Eren knows he’s too tired to voice his protests, but he clings to his husband desperately, he doesn’t want to be sent away. For Levi’s sake. Leaving his insomniac ass with his mom would be an unkindness –  though he may deserve it for hitting Mikasa in the end. But Eren’s too nice. He knows it. He’s compassionate.

And…

And he’s sad for them. He can’t understand how mother and son remain unable to get along. His own mother was everything to him, but leave Kuchel and Levi some time alone and one of them will storm off and snap at everyone for a few hours.

Levi’s life hadn’t been all sunshine and rainbows. Eren is aware, his very soul is aware that Levil bears wounds that will never heal, no matter the amount of love he will pour onto them. His love is sweet, it wouldn’t be like rubbing salt on the wound, but if salt makes the pain worse, sugar doesn’t exactly make it better either. Talking it out doesn’t soothe the burns, and Eren can’t even say he knows the full story.

As Levi carries him to their temporary room, he falls asleep.

Tomorrow, they’re opening their gifts.

So, _Joyeux Noël_,

Levi,

Mikasa.

I love you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations first:
> 
> "Je suis content de vous revoir !" : I am happy to see you again (polite form).
> 
> "Tutoie-moi, allons." : Come on, don't be so formal.
> 
> "LivaÏ... pas besoin de faire cette tête, tu sais. Je suis contente de te voir, mon chéri." : Levi, no need to make a face, you know. I'm glad to see you, my love.
> 
> "Hier bist du aufgewachsen, äh..." : You grew up here, huh...
> 
> "Mamie" : Grandma
> 
> "Ça fait peur" : It's scary
> 
> "Eren, j’ai appris que Carla n’était pas au meilleur de sa forme… Je suis désolée de l’entendre, vraiment. Tu lui donneras mes meilleurs vœux de rétablissement, d’accord ?" : Eren, I learned that Carla was doing so well... I am sorry to hear it, really. Give her my best wishes for her recovery, okay?
> 
> "Gute Besserung für Carla" : Best wishes of recovery for Carla.
> 
> "Igitt..." : Yuck
> 
> "Sale gosse" : Brat
> 
> "Tata Zabelle" : Auntie 'Zabel (informal, from I-Zabel. Kids would say it like that)
> 
> "Tonton Farlan" : Uncle Farlan (informal)
> 
> "le Nain Jaune" : Yellow Dwarf (traditional French board game)
> 
> "Vati" : Dad, daddy, papa
> 
> "Papa" : Dady, daddy, papa
> 
> "Maman, tu as besoin d'aide ?" : Mom, do you need help?
> 
> "Mon cœur" : sweetie (lit: my heart)
> 
> "croquemonsieur" (or croque-monsieur): kind of traditional French sandwich.
> 
> "chéridoux" : mix of "chéri" (beloved) and "doux" (sweet). It doesn't exist, but it sounds very cute and could easily be said by someone like Kuchel, I think.
> 
> "buche" : kind of traditional French cake for Christmas.
> 
> "J'ai hâte" : I can"t wait.
> 
> "Tu devrais prendre le temps de les appeler, mon garçon. Livaï va m’aider à cuisiner, d’accord ?" : You should take the time to call them, son. Levi will help me in the kitchen, alright?
> 
> "comme s'il l'avait faite" : as if he had made her (French expression that parents say to their kids).
> 
> "Kaffee und Kuchen" : lit. coffee and cake. It's a German "activity", you meet up for coffee and cake in the afternoon, that's it.
> 
> "Heute nicht. Kannst du dich an das Menü erinnern?" : Not today. Can you remember the menu?
> 
> "Escargots… saumon… foie gras… dinde… de la buche ! Vati, ich will buche essen!" : Snails, salmon, foie gras, turkey, buche. Daddy, I want to eat buche!
> 
> "Als Nachtisch, ja. Iss mal dein Fleisch zu Ende, Schatz." : For the dessert, yes. Eat your meat up, baby.
> 
> "Papa, ils se ferment tout seuls !" : Daddy, they close themselves on their own!
> 
> "C'était pas une question. Tu vas au lit, un point c'est tout." : I didn't ask you a question. You're going to bed, no buts.
> 
> "Je veux pas." : I don't want to.
> 
> "Was ist hier drin?" : What's in there?
> 
> "je sais pas" : I don't know
> 
> "Ist das nicht dein Zimmer?" : Isn't that your room?
> 
> "C'était. Il y a des années. Des décennies." : It used to be. Years ago. Decades ago.
> 
> "Was war mit deiner Mutter los? Sie wusste nicht, dass dir deinen Geburtstag gefiel… wie kann das sein?" : What was up with your mother? She didn't know that you liked your birthday... how can that be?
> 
> "Il y a des choses qu’il vaut mieux ne pas savoir sur cette maison et celle qui l’habite." : There are things best left unknown about this house and the woman who lives in it.
> 
> "Was soll das bedeuten?" : What is that supposed to mean?
> 
> "on doit retourner en bas. Viens, gamin." : We gotta head downstairs. Come along, kid.
> 
> "Hab dich lieb" : I love you
> 
> "Je sais. Moi aussi." : I know, me too.
> 
> "Elle dit quoi ?" : What is she saying?
> 
> "Livaï, mon cœur, tu devrais l'emmener au lit." : Levi, sweetie, you should bring him to bed.
> 
> "Joyeux Noël" : Merry Christmas.  
_____________  
Now that it's done, some explanations:
> 
> I decided to write this fully knowing that non-Europeans would have difficulties reading it, and, well, too bad. To anyone who's been to Germany or France for a long period of time, you understood some of my references. Some others are purely out of my personal experience, lol.
> 
> The next chapter will focus on Eren's family in Germany. Also, the fourth and final chapter will be available in French, German and English.
> 
> Cheers everyone, happy holidays!


	3. Bei den Jägers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: I will provide zero translation from this chapter. This fic is multilingual and I figured that translating it would kind of ruin the point of it, right?  
Is it laziness? Perhaps. Do I care? Absolutely not.

On their way back to Germany, they are all on edge.

Leaving Kuchel this morning, with their Christmas presents half-opened and barely in the mood to fully open them anyway, wasn’t difficult at all. Isabelle clung a bit more than usual perhaps, but Farlan hit Levi’s back as a goodbye, and after that, they were gone. In a similar fashion, Eren was sent off with a pat on the shoulder, whereas Mikasa got kissed at least ten times, which Eren finds utterly ridiculous.

Levi is oscillating between guilt and anger. Does he feel guilty about hitting Mikasa?

Partially.

Does he feel angry about having had to hit Mikasa?

Most certainly.

But these feelings came mixed when directed towards Eren. He wanted to be mad at Eren, but he was responsible for both Mikasa’s pain and the ruined atmosphere.

The tension between he and Eren left him a bit breathless, he realizes. He tends to stop breathing for long periods, then inhales loudly, though he tries to suppress the sound, because it’s too similar to repressed sobs.

At some point, he stops the car on the side of the road and demands for Eren to drive instead. His head is spinning, and he doesn’t want to have to explain himself.

Christmas always takes its toll on his mind, but this year’s impact was out of this world. He was glad he had gotten to meet with Farlan and Isabelle again, though it was a shame it had to happen at his mother’s house for the hundredth time. There was a vastness between son and parent, both in ideas and actions. He wanted his relationship with his mother to be distant and polite, like that of cousins who meet up yearly, though not always willingly, but even with all his precautions, he couldn’t help the feeling of warmth growing in his heart, almost pouring light onto his world. _Almost_.

It’s Eren’s job to do, now. It’s Mikasa’s job as well. They're the lights he needs in his world.

He does feel bad about what he’s done.

Mikasa is sleeping on the backseat. Levi focuses on her cheek like there’s his hand printed on it still, like he’s tarnished the flesh of his flesh.

He thinks, in other conditions than this one, he wouldn’t have felt guilty. Though Eren’s reaction made him realize one thing he’s always thought would never happen to him.

Raising his kid the way he was raised. Subconsciously taking Kenny and Kuchel as models. He’d rather imitate Carla, who hasn’t stopped messaging them since they told her they were on their way. Meanwhile, nothing from Kuchel, and that will stay so until next year. Raising his kid the way he was raised... the apple never falls far from the tree.

Eren drives somewhat safely. They experience his typical brusque way of braking, which doesn’t seem to bother Mikasa anymore. Glaring at his husband after the car stops abruptly once more, he instantly knows he’s been doing it on purpose to tick him off.

That’s how it goes between two foul-tempered spouses.

“I won’t tell my _Mama_.”

Eren’s grip on the steering wheel hardens.

“But I’m still disappointed in you. I don’t care if it’s what your stupid people do, my daughter is not getting hit by her father. I’m supposed to be the angry one, and you, the levelheaded monotonous motherfucker. Guess who hit her?”

A pause. Eren’s breath weavers. Blood rushes to his face and reddens his features. His driving gets jerky, his hands jolty, until he decides on his own to stop at the next service area.

He stops the car next to the edge of a timberland, where the job was almost done and most of the trees cut down. He exits the car silently, Mikasa wakes up nevertheless, “are we there yet?”, and Levi hesitates to answer to her.

“Not yet”, he tells her with a small smile. “_Vati_ and I must talk about something important.”

He knows that she understands. She is young and bright, and she has a keen eye for discord, always on the lookout for enmity, and tries to fix things up. She was very aware she could have both her parents wrapped around her little finger, and Levi has the terrible feeling that her ways could reconcile him and Eren faster than planned. In her eyes dwindles the same flame he sees in Eren’s, she is actively looking for solutions, he reads her like a book, and her features hardened by reflection are the reason she doesn’t answer vocally.

Levi takes it as his cue to exit the car as well and go where Eren headed off. He’s sat on a wooden bank, the table before him is cut in half, as if torn apart by a thunder strike. As Levi nears, Eren sits his elbows on the edge of the table, his palms residing on his face.

He isn’t angry. He isn’t mad per se, he’s… cooling off from whatever highs he had reached.

This is one of his coping ways he’s had to learn in therapy, when they were younger and their couple more unstable than it is today. There is no reason to recall the different ways Eren would hurt himself or others because he knew no other way to translate his anger into the world. Knowing him, he may have been the one to tear the table in half…

“I’m sorry, I can’t… I couldn’t. I was getting worked up and...”

“It’s fine. I was too.”

“_Livi_, you can’t… you can’t hit her. I won’t accept it. That’s now how you raise a child. You’ve always been scared of looking like your uncle, and now, you hit _Miki_? I don’t get you.”

Apologizing wouldn’t change anything.

Levi opens his mouth.

“I’m sorry.”

* * *

Eren’s parents had the biggest house he’d ever seen. He had been put off the first time he’d come. Memories of Carla’s sweet giggles as he removed his shoes like a good boy, placing them next to the door. Memories of Grisha’s strong hold on him as they shook hands and exchanged words of courtesy.

“You are the Levi we’ve heard about. How are you?”

“Fine, thank you, Sir.”

The round glasses on Grisha’s nose kept sliding off their usual position. The man always had a finger on the bridge of his nose, keeping the structure of his face put, as if holding his old features together. This upright attitude, coupled with his paternal gaze and tone, reminded Levi of all the doctors he had met in his life. Grisha is the archetype of all these medicine men combined, which quickly led Levi to analyze and compare Grisha and Eren, to see what similarities he could find blooming in Eren.

The comparison fell short when he started to rub shoulders wth Carma. Eren hadn’t inherited much from his father. His mother, however, is his spitting image. A passion in her eyes, a warmth in her laughter, a stubbornness behind the wrinkles of her forehead. A force unparalleled, only by her son perhaps.

Since their first meeting, Levi had remained more on the polite side, ratjer than the familial mood Carla wished for, but he had stopped with the polite forms of speech, so there was at least that.

The door opens to Carla’s sunkissed face. She scoops Mikasa up in her arms before she even looks at her son and son-in-law. They hug, and then Mikasa runs inside to get to Grisha as fast as she can.

Carla throws herself around Eren’s neck, which Eren isn’t reluctant to reciprocate. Levi gives them their space and waits patiently for Carla to extend an arm to him and give him a hearty hug.

“You two! You’re finally here.” Grisha peeks from inside, which pushes Carla to usher them inside. Eren’s father holds Mikasa.

“We sure are”, Eren replies with a smile.

“How was the drive?”

“Exhausting. I feel like I drove across the entire continent.” Eren’s tone is playful, but no one misses the more obscure, shadier undertones in his voice. He’s always been a bad liar.

Carla doesn’t let it bring her down and leads them both to the kitchen while talking about the nth clothing shop she’s opened somewhere in the city. She fairs well in all matters relating to business. Her acute sense of commerce paired with her bottomless determination turned her into a fierce businesswoman. Levi can’t say he shares her ideals of grandeur and prestige. Eren’s family is filled with dreamers who, thanks either to money or power, manage to reach their goals.

Levi pales in comparison. A mere househusband who ditched school as much as he could and sold all kinds of illegal substances on the black market to survive. The old Jäger couple had not been as understanding in the beginning, more so when Zeke Jäger, Grisha’s son from a previous marriage, died unexpectedly. Caught up in the crossfire of a gang battle on the streets, his agonizing body was found, but hardly recognizable.

Levi shakes his head to chase the dark thoughts away. Think about Christmas. Focus on that and only that.

Carla takes her Christmas cookies out of the oven and forces one into Mikasa’s mouth. The girl munches on it with a satisfied sigh. Eren admits to them they didn’t stop to eat lunch and Grisha raises a hand to smack Eren on the back of his head.

“Then we’ll prepare something”, his father adds. “Though on another note, happy birthday, Levi.”

“Happy birthday, Levi.” Carla’s honeylike voice congratulates.

“Thank you both.” His voice falls flat.

“Come on, don’t get cranky”, Eren elbows him gently. “Show some enthusiasm.”

“It would be preposterous to act an age he isn’t anymore”, Grisha says ceremoniously.

“_Papa_’s sooo old!” Mikasa pipes in, disregarding her cookie. “Older than everyone! Even you, _Opa_!”

Levi scoffs and fakes being hurt.

“How old are you exactly?” Carla asks innocently, her voice still tinted with her confident sense of camaraderie.

“I turned forty.”

“See, Mikasa. It’s not old at all!”

“You, _Oma_?”

“I'm at least twenty”

“See, Papa?”

Levi looks up and sighs. She’s having fun, so there’s that. She eyes him warily all of a sudden, but he smiles at her, and she relaxes, going back to eating her cookie up.

The little family sits down on the regal table where Grisha brings tea and coffee, as well as the freshly baked cookies. Mikasa doesn't join them yet and prefers to take her toys out of the drawer specifically made for her. She makes a mess out of the place, which could have Levi roaring already, but Carla assures him it is fine.

“You said you were sick, but you've baked all those and more?” Eren asks, dumbfounded.

“It was quick as a flash. I thought I was dying just yesterday, and now I can take on the world.”

“You still have Kuchel's wishes and blessings.”

“Thank her for me when you next see her boys, or perhaps we'll see her all together. Can't say I've planned next year out. Is she well too?”

“As well as she can get”, Levi says with an ounce of bitterness which doesn't go unnoticed.

“And your friends? Eren told me Isabelle and... Farlan – was it? – were present too.”

“Oh, wait up, isn't Farlan that one man who provided us with champagne, once?” Grisha's voice cuts through theirs quite abruptly. “Could we buy more from him? We talked a little, but he seemed very knowledgeable on everything that's champagne and more, and the kind of champagne he brought with him was divine.”

“His family produces champagne. I'll ask him on your behalf, I'm sure he's gonna be pleased to know you've found his family's production to your liking. I do have to ask him for Hanji and Erwin anyway.”

“Oh, yes. These two couldn't make it as early as you, but they're coming for dinner anyway.” Carla's voice is sweet as she announces it.

Levi freezes and throws Eren an obvious “what the fuck” glance.

“Your birthday, _Schatz_. They're coming for your birthday. Of course I'd invite your friends. And before you refuse, they agreed not to get you any gifts just like you said.”

Levi knows there's more to it, but doesn't want to cause a scene in front of the Jäger parents. He is also very much aware that Eren's friends were the kind to celebrate for him too, and he fully expected Sasha or Connie to barge in anytime from the 1 st to the 31 st of January. They wanted in for the food, mainly, though he could but admit that they appreciated him, whereas  _he_ remained indifferent, if not disdainful towards them. He never showed impoliteness or disrespect, but reluctance and reservation. Closedness. Coldness.

“You hadn't warned the poor boy?” Carla adds with surprise, replacing one of Eren's bangs dismissively. “I must apologize, Levi. I haven't raised no punk.”

“You kind of did.” Eren squeaks as she holds his mouth in her strong palm. “Don't do that!”

“Apologize to the boy.”

“I'm not thirteen anymore...!”

“No, you're thirty, and should act as such. Levi, my boy, I'm sorry he did that to you. We can call it off, if you don't feel like it. Unlike this barbarian I call a son, I know you're not always at ease with-”

“Let them come. Who cares anyway.”

Carla's meaningful and commited speech cut short, they all settle into an uncomfortable silence. Grisha decides to bring out his wild card, his _job_.

Playing his part as the old doctor, and playing it  _well_ , Grisha narrates his most famous hospital stories, as if Eren hadn't heard them thousands of times before. Even Carla lifts an unsurprised eyebrow, but she remains quiet, for she knows that, after Grisha is done talking, she will be up and ready to drown them in information  none of them ever asked for.

Eren regularly interrupts his father, asking about the persons his dad mentions without explaining how they are doing. Levi hears names he had decidedly never heard about before and listens avidly, as Eren tends to keep quiet about his patients.

Grisha goes as far as to show Eren a recent case of his, so his son can give him his professional opinion. In moments like these, Levi feels out of place. In moments like these, Levi wishes he had something to be grandiloquent about, but a part-time job as a janitor doesn't suit this  purpose .

As both father and son bicker about the details of the case Grisha brought with him, Carla nudges Levi's shoulder and points with a nod towards Eren, as if to tell him “look at my son, it's what I made, it's whom you fell in love with”, and although Levi manages a smile, there's no heart in it, and Carla may act like an airhead, but she's a very observant woman, and instantly switches topic to Levi's job; fully aware that she was treading on eggshells.

“How's the school, Levi? The kids still don't like you?”

“What can I say, kids are easily scared.”

“But you're doing good?”

“Perfect. Nothing much to say about it. My boss is satisfied, so am I, so things roll out okay. You? Eren told me your new shop went through... stuff.”

“Oh boy, and I think you've only heard the tip of the iceberg.”

Carla's passion rubs off on him, and he finds himself smiling, as he sips on the meticulously prepared tea. She tells him about their day at the _Weihnachtsmarkt_, where she had found “_das perfekteste Geschenk für Grishas Vater_.”

Grisha's parents are still well and kicking, though they couldn't make it for Christmas. They never make it for Christmas, because they don't celebrate it. They find excuses, and to be fair, Levi doesn't mind. He's met Eren's grandfather thrice and could hardly stand the old man.

“Boys,” Carla chastises after she's done speaking and hears their ongoing bickering, “leave it. You're not even making sense to yourselves anymore.”

“He didn't force me to go through the entirety of med school to then argue with me when he's wrong.” Eren deadpans.

“I mean, you've both been at each other's throats for twenty minutes and you still haven't talked about how your patient felt. Ask her _where_ it hurts.”

Levi thinks it's stupid. If medicine were this easy, Eren would certainly be happier in his day-to-day life, but then, he sees his husband's brows furrow in reflection.

“We'll... we'll talk about it later”, Eren compromises. “_Mama_, let's open our gifts.”

Carla agrees, though she makes a quick stop by the kitchen to bring back healthy snacks she's negligently prepared.

“What did you get me?” Mikasa asked quietly as she came close to hug her _Opa_'s leg.

“Come on _Prinzessin_, I'll show you.”

Grisha may look like a stoic man, he was, in reality, the fondest of Mikasa, and liked to _teach_ her. She would ask ridiculously complicated questions about the ocean, and how far it extends, about the sun, and why it's so round, about the universe, and how it came to be. About wars, and why some people kill each other on TV.

She is adamant on wanting an answer for that last one.

She asked Eren, and he told her, it's because some people want revenge. They think tearing the enemy apart satisfies this hunger.

She asked Levi, and he told her, it's because all humans believe in something. They are ready to do anything, as long as they protect something or someone they hold onto. Mankind never runs out of things to protect. Even for peace, some are ready to fight and kill.

She asked _Opa_, and he told her, you love those around you because you were born surrounded by love. Had you been born in a world of hatred, you'd grow to hate everything, even yourself. Growing to hate someone in a world of love is common place. Growing to love someone in a world of hate is a miracle. Some people are born into a world of war, and it's the only way they know, so they fight, they fight and fight, until there's no fighting inside of them anymore.

Mikasa likes her _Opa_'s mindset better than _Papa_'s or _Vati_'s.

“_Vati_, you wouldn't make a good warrior.”

“It's fine”, Eren had answered. “I wouldn't want to be one anyway.”

Levi had decided then never to talk about the military service he'd done, as well as the social pressure he'd received to join the army, back when he was a street troublemaker.

“What is it, what is it, what is it?” Mikasa bounced around like a monkey, tearing the gift wrap apart with jolty blows.

The gift was relatively big, and Levi thought she'd find Playmobils or Legos inside, but instead, there is a carton box, nicely decorated by both Grisha's and Carla's handwriting, wishing her the best for this Christmas. Inside the carton, there are books.

Tons of books.

Levi joins his hands on his ears as Mikasa screams out happily, taking each book out of the box and laying it on display on the ground.

Numerous books about astronomy, biology and geography. There is no way these things are suited for a little girl, but Mikasa's eyes still shine bright, as if she had been gifted the world itself, and the knowing smile on her grandparents' face makes Levi think that maybe, it is the world  to her indeed.

For the younger Jäger couple, or rather for Eren, because Levi would never use it, a new TV. As in, a whole 49'' curved screen. Eren is overjoyed.

“Thank you guys, this is crazy! Why'd you get me something... like that? It's like, wow. I'm just... wow'd.”

“There is no way it fits in the living room”, Levi comments, lost in thoughts, trying to visualize their home. “Through the garage...?”

“I'm ready to tear a wall down for this baby to fit”, Eren declares, a comical fire in his eyes. “It _will_ fit.”

_That's what she said_, Levi thinks. He doesn't even snort to himself.

He is about to thank Carla and Grisha, when the former unexpectedly leaves and comes back with a last gift. This one is handed to Levi personally, which makes him very hesitant to open it before their prying eyes. He pushes through and unwraps it carefully. Beneath the colorful wrap is a photo album, and when he opens it, he sees that it's already full.

The first page are pictures of... of his mother. Of his mother, when she was younger, with a baby in her arms. Behind her, there's the dusty, old village he's always known as a child, the one with the drug dealers at the corner of their street, the one with the old pervert near the pimp's house, always eager to ask for his girls' services. She's smiling, her young and bright features already tarnished by age and maltreatment. Levi dreads the day his skin will feel as crusty as hers, like that of an old witch, and he sees the cracks on her face like a building that's lasted too long and overstayed its use.

His eyes flicker on each photography, a moment enough to see them, to acknowledge their existence, to ground them into his memory, but fast enough so he doesn't actually remember them, the right amount of milliseconds so he can briefly thank Carla and forget about this book's existence for the rest of his li-

“Oh, is that your mom? She's... she's beautiful.” Eren's comment pins a needle in Levi's heart.

Eren turns a page, and fusses over the baby he sees in each picture, he doesn't dare take them out of their protective layers, so he fusses like a child, which would have brought Mikasa's attention, had she not been buried deep in one of her books already.

Levi catches sight of photos he's never seen before. It arouses his curiosity, pictures of a man that's not his uncle, and Eren's fussing becomes too much, he snaps the album closed and shoots everyone a glare that doesn't leave the topic open for discussion.

Not his uncle...

That definitely wasn't his uncle.

_Please_. It couldn’t be his uncle.

* * *

When Hanji and Erwin arrive, the festivities are  almost starting to die down. Hanji is with her husband, who remains in her shadow most of the time. He is a lovely man, if Levi ever met one. Quiet, docile and very respectful of everyone's boundaries, mostly because Hanji needed a yin to her yang. And because he puts up with her on the daily, Levi admits he admires the man and his quiet force.

He’s also as German as they come here in Germany, which sometimes has Hanji and Levi laugh about the tiniest cultural differences they can find between themselves and their husbands.

Hanji makes a beeline for Levi and they share kisses on their cheeks, which always puts off those around them. After Levi, Hanji goes for Eren, and climbs her way down to the people she knows the most to those she hardly speaks with, ending her polite salutations with Carla.

Levi doesn’t know why Eren would insist on inviting Erwin and Hanji today, when they’re with his family, but he knows that Eren knows that he knows they all know that Germans like their schedule, and that they’ll all be in bed after 10pm anyway. They must celebrate while there’s still daylight left, Hanji and Levi often joke.

“That’s how you know we haven’t chosen to associate with the youngest people…” Hanji had commented once.

Today, Erwin is in good spirits, and greets everyone as relaxedly as he can. Mikasa comes to him and instinctively kisses him on the cheeks like she’s learned from _Papa_, another topic of heated discussion between Eren and Levi – though for another day – which forces Erwin to lean all the way down to her.

Mikasa likes his friends perhaps more than Levi even, which is easily proven by the amounts of gifts she receives from both Erwin and Hanji whenever they have the opportunity to. They don’t really need reasons, but Levi thinks, that’s his fault for having a child before his friends. Of course they’d get fond of _his_ kid.

“_Choupichoupinette!_” Hanji scoops her up in her arms and plants kisses everywhere on her face. “How big you got since I last saw you!”

“We saw each other three weeks ago.” Mikasa counters dully.

“That’s almost a month! Do you know how fast kids your age grow? I feel like you’re a whole new person each time I meet you!”

Hanji always overwhelms Miki, so the girl struggles a bit in her arms and is soon let down, whispering to herself “But I’m always me...”

The girl goes to greet Moblit, who is quick to throw himself at her level. She says “ _hallo_ !” to him with her cutest voice and face, to which Moblit answers with a bright smile and a high five. She slaps his hand above their heads enthusiastically, then runs off to the bags the new arrivers had brought with them,  hovering around them like a fish around  a lure.

Levi scolds her harshly, so she almost goes back to the TV  show that’s calling her name in the living room , except Hanji has already dive d and gone through the entirety of her bag, shuffling a small Christmas present out of it, and  extending it towards the girl.

Mikasa rips it from Hanji’s hands and opens it eagerly, thanking both her and Moblit excitedly as she discovers the brand new coloring tools they’ve gotten her.  Paper, pencils,  paint, anything to help her improve her drawing technique.

Not like the girl is passionate, but she does possess a certain determination whenever she partakes in an activity, and it’s undeniable that drawing had brought her great joy and relief when she was even younger.

“_D__essine-toi avec ton père !_” Hanji chirps, which has Eren snorting.

“_D’__accord !_ _Avec __Papa o__u__ Vati ?_”

“_...T__on père __!_”

“_A__rrête de vouloir l’embrouiller__”, Levi reprimands her after a tired growl. “__T__u sais que nous sommes tous les deux tes pères,__ ma puce. T__u peux dessiner ce que tu veux__._”

“_Na toll! Was für ein schönes Gemälde wirst du uns malen__?_” Clara asks with childish excitement, taking some of the boxes in her hands to appreciate them more closely.

Mikasa hesitates before she gives her candid answer, not wanting to hurt anyone: “I’ll draw everyone! Ok,  _Oma_ ? Everyone gets to be in my drawing!”

As everyone settles around the large table in the even vaster living room,  plates and beverages are exchanged like gifts, everyone wants to try the potato salad sitting on its throne at the center of the table.  Hours blend into each other blurrily and  Levi sips on his mulled wine, a pleasant smile plastered on his otherwise equanimous face.  He’s half listening to Erwin monologue about his “incredible entrepreneurship”, which is not an unsurprising topic coming from his friend.

Erwin only truly stops when Mikasa runs up to Eren and asks him to play a music she likes, Levi isn’t sure why she’d want this specific music, then the bass starts to invade the space around them, and the slight dizziness coming from his wine helps him retreat further away in his mind, locked away from the familiar chatter. He retreats so far away that he decides to leave the room, excusing himself properly, and going to the bags they had stacked on the bed of the guestroom, opening one of them to retrieve the album he had been gifted personally.

_Die Welt ist klein und wir sind groß…_

He hums along  with  the music, he remembers it from somewhere, though where exactly, he cannot say.  He sits on the edge of the bed, the faint voices hardly reach him, and he’s gone to do something he wishes he didn’t have to do.

Who was that man next to his mother? Was it his father? Was it his uncle?

He opens the album to the first page and  evaluates his own baby pictures for a while. He had never seen them before and he must admit, he doesn’t recognize the setting for most of these. It wasn’t the house in the village by the whorehouse,  neither was it the bridge he knew they had lived under before his mother got her job.

He was a cute baby. But whose hands were on h is chubby body ? They lacked the rotten, sick appearance of his mother’s, an d-

“_Was machst du denn hier ganz alleine, Baby?_”

He slaps the album shut and glares at Eren, wincing at his disapproving tone as well as at the nickname. He feels their angers growing steadily, the air tenses around them. They’re in for a confrontation.

“_Rien. Oublie__._”

“_Kannst du dich erinnern, was wir am Tag nach unserer Hochzeit gemacht haben?_”

“… _Hanzi nous a collé au cul. __T’as jeté une échelle sur le toit de la salle… Sasha a failli tomber dans le puits et le maire a débarqué pour nuisance sonore._”

“_Schöne Zeiten… Wir können __e__h nichts normal machen __aber ich meinte das nich-_”

“_Tu peux le dire, après avoir invité Han et Erwin chez tes parents. Ils se connaissent à peine, on avait pas besoin d’eux ici._”

“_Ich dachte mir, du wärst froh, wenn Hanji kommt. Erwin ist auch dein bester Freund und im Gegensatz zu uns, die haben… keine eigene Familie. Ich kann’s dir versprechen: sie haben sich gefreut, als ich sie eingeladen habe. Sie sind nicht aus Mitlied gekommen._”

“_Moblit a de la famille, me la joue pas à l’envers. __Si c’était pour vous foutre de ma gueule cette soirée, t’avais qu’à le dire. On peut savoir où ta daronne a trouvé ces photos de moi ?_”

“_Na Livi, bitte, ich wollte-_”

“_Je m’en branle de ce que tu voulais. J’ai pas passé une vie entière à les éviter pour recevoir le jour de mes quarante ans des photos de ‘tout ce que j’ai raté’. Un minimum de tact, dans ta vie, ça t’aurait tué ? Tu sais très bien ce que je pense de ma m-_”

“_Nein! Ich weiß es aber nicht! Du hast mir von nichts erzählt, alles was ich weiß, hab ich durch Hanji oder Erwin erfahren! Du versteckst dich, du gehst mit deinem Leben weiter, ohne dich um deine Probleme zu kümmern! Dann bricht alles zusammen und wenn ich dir die Möglichkeit gebe, dich mit deiner Mutter zu versöhnen, verachtest du alles! So darf man nicht leben. Ich werd’s dir nicht erlauben, so weiterzuleben, weil es kein Weiterleben ist.__ Ist nur ein Schein. So angenehm muss es sein, sich dahinter zu verbergen, äh?_”

E ren doesn’t leave the room, clapping the door violently shut, nor does he scream his anger at him, there’s nothing, he stays fuming in front of  him, and Levi isn’t sure he has the  courage to face him verbally.

T he music reaches them again, and Levi almost wants to whisper the lines now stuck in his mind.

_Die Welt ist klein und wir sind groß._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orphaned.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
Vati (G) = daddy, dad  
Papa (F) = daddy, dad  
Nikolaus (G) = Saint Nicholas, important festivity in Germany  
Plätzchen (G) = kind of cookie/biscuit baked in Germany before Christmas. Children love baking them.  
Adventzeit (G) = Advent time, Yuletide  
Miki (G) = German nickname are usually made in "i". Foreigners who speak German easily tie them to words on which it wouldn't work for native speakers, so Miki is the diminutive form of "Mikasa"  
Brötchen (G) = A kind of food Germans eat. Simple round bread with garniture inside. It can be considered a standalone meal (absolutely not in France)  
Entrée (F) = Compared to what it could mean in English, "une entrée" is a kind of appetizer, no matter what it is. As long as it's before the main dish and is light to eat, it's "une entrée"  
Opa (G) (in the story, refers to Grisha Jäger) = Grandpa  
Oma (G) (in the story, refers to Carla Jäger) = Grandma  
Mamie (F) (in the story, refers to Kuchel Olympie Ackerman) = Grandma  
Sale gosse (F) = brat, dirty brat
> 
> Note: Isabelle isn't misspelled. I know her actual name is Isabel, but Isabelle is the French spelling. Pronunciation remains unchanged.


End file.
